


Evidence of things unseen

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 3 [17]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: sometimes you just need to call someone to share the news ...





	Evidence of things unseen

One late evening a few weeks later, completely random, completely soaking wet in the shower, completely alone given Mulder was off with Skinner investigating a man claiming that he killed his wife while possessed by his twin brother born dead 32 years earlier, Scully discovered something that made her call out Mulder’s name, then deflate slightly when she remembered he was across the country.

She’d been washing, not thinking anything of it, soap, shampoo, hot water, slick skin, razor, washcloth, routine 30 years in the making when her hand noticed the smallest of bumps, slight elevation of abdomen, curve replacing flat.

Their child was making himself known.

Finishing quickly, ignoring stubbly legs above the knee, flying across the apartment to her phone, wet footprints indented in carpeting, water streaming from her hair. She wanted to tell him, share with him what they’d been waiting months for, never having gotten far enough with the twins to see her body change. Finding phone, dropping phone through still wet fingers, she eventually managed to dial his number, getting giddier inside by the second, hands starting to shake.

“Mulder.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Mulder, in northern California, was back at the police station, tired, ruffled, needing to stretch his legs after driving all over creation that day, Skinner cruising around corners and along coastal roads like he was attempting to win the Indy 500. Exciting, yes, but after several hours of clenching his stomach and pressing on the imaginary brake, he just wanted to not be moving 90 miles an hour. Well after 9pm on his side of the world, he took a moment to do time zone math, discovering it was past midnight at home, “are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I can feel him.”

First thought went to that stupidly scary piece of microtechnology in her flesh, “don’t go anywhere! I’ll call the guys and tell them to come over and keep an eye on you. Stay on the phone with me until they get there.” Already catching Skinner’s arm and about to whisper demand he call the Gunmen, he heard Scully faintly behind the fear buzzing in his ears, “wait? What?”

“Your child, Mulder. I’m talking about the baby.”

Hand still gripping Skinner’s coat, he stopped both their movement, asking again, “what?”

Scully, starting to shiver in the dead of night cold of the living room, still soaked and naked, clumsily threw an afghan around her shoulders, putting hand immediately back on belly, “I was in the shower and I realized my stomach isn’t flat anymore. There’s the smallest little bump and I ate dinner hours ago so it’s not a food baby like you had after Thanksgiving.”

Having no idea he was outside in the dark of a police station clutching at his boss with several policemen, both on and off duty, milling around eyeing them in confusion, “you can really see him? Feel him?”

No idea why, her voice wobbled, tear-ducts stinging, forming tears, “he’s there, Mulder. He’s there and real and growing and he’s ours and I wish you could be here to see him.”

Skinner could hear her voice through the phone and breathing again because nothing was wrong, watched Mulder disappear, his eyes, his mind so far away, with Scully, with their child, that he didn’t move, didn’t disturb his agent but held still, unquestioning, letting Mulder savor his small slice of heaven.

“I’ll be home in a few days and I love you and I still have $5 riding on it being a girl.” Remembering suddenly that Skinner was beside him, he let go and walked a few feet away before continuing, “and just to let you know, the minute I get in the front door, I’m striping you naked so I can stare at your belly for hours.”

In no more than a whisper carrying across the airwaves, “he’s real, Mulder.”

He hung up a minute later, turning to find Skinner still there, now leaning against the front fender of the car, feet crossed, hands in pockets, staring at nothing 30 feet away, “sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Just, next time, let me know she’s okay from the start, all right?”

Mulder tilted his head in understanding, a wee bit of a shocking belief that he had always known but which just now fully hit him in beautiful three-dimensional astonishment, “you care about us.”

“Mulder.”

Continuing because that’s what he did, “but not just because we’re your agents or because you’ve worked with us and know us but,” revelation shouldn’t be this much of a surprise to him at this point in existence, “you think of us as your family.” He’d joked before about calling him ‘dad’ and such but for the first time, his perception shifted from father-figure to plain, old father, “if something had been wrong at home, you would have ditched this case faster than me, wouldn’t you?”

Slamming the door on any kind of solitary life he had left, void of anyone but his mother and uncle states away, he planted himself firmly in the Scully-Mulder family dynamic for the rest of time, “we’d have been halfway to the airport already, ready to commandeer a fucking Leer jet if we’d had to.”

Mulder, his mouth twitching to a grin, “come on, Walter, I’ll buy you a free cup of coffee before we figure out how to catch this asshole so we can go home. I’ve got a baby to stare at and a Scully to adore.”

Enjoying the thought of going home as well, he elbowed Mulder lightly, “I’ve got my own Scully to go home to, if you think about it.”

Good God, he was right, “just … just don’t call her Scully though, okay? I’d have to … it would just be … just call her Maggie, all right?”

Skinner pushed the door to the station open, “let’s just get this done.”

&&&&&&&&&

Forgoing sleep and proper nutrition, Mulder was staring up at their apartment, front door within arm’s reach, less than a day later. He’d passed exhausted 12 hours ago and running on fumes, wondered fleetingly if he could just leave his luggage in the entryway downstairs and retrieve it when he cared again. It was five am, Scully knew he’d be home and the only thing fueling his feet was the prospect of early morning, sleepy partner with bed-head and baby belly.

He left everything by the door and shed clothing as he climbed the stairs, dropping handful of jeans, t-shirt and jacket at the foot of the bed before sliding under sheets beside his drowsily blinking partner, “morning.”

Soft voice uncoiled whatever stress he had left, scooting her towards him, rolling her to her back, hand homing in on stomach, feeling definite convex where concave had forever been, “there’s a baby in there.”

Nuzzling her nose to his, “yes, there is.”

“It’s ours.”

“Yes, it is.”

Slipping his leg up and over hers, he moved his hand from her front to her side then continued rolling her until she faced him, thigh now sandwiched warm and heavy, fingers caressing tattoo rise, then ribs to spine, lips skimming before he closed his eyes to sleep, “don’t wake me if this is a dream.”

Sinking back to sleep herself, “I think it is.”

“Then I won’t wake you up either.”

And they slept.


End file.
